The facts of life, though compelling, benefit from discretion. And yet, it’s hard to ignore just what is going on out there, in the dirt.
Those tender seeds dropped lightly into the garden ages ago have, well, matured. At first, into sturdy green citizens. Which developed buds. Then burst into bright, flirtatious, over-perfumed bloom. Abandoned, of course, when the inevitable transpired. Those plants are bearing fruit. Or, more precisely, vegetable.
Not, mind you, lone vegetable. Lots of vegetable. In profusion. Copiously. Prolifically. Prodigiously. There’s a reason they call it produce.
The zucchini are shameless. Low-lying vines given to sneaking across the lawn, grabbing the ankles of the casual passerby and felling him. Then lifting a broad flat leaf to reveal yet another looming squash. No wonder children fear these things.
The desperate reach for desperate euphemism. The “ornamental” eggplant. The “marrow” zucchini, a British phenomenon, in which the oversized squash, instead of being shunned as past its prime, is exalted as, well, large.
Not to mention ubiquitous. In this season, writes Eugenia Bone in her memoir of Colorado cooking, the cautious lock their car doors, for fear the neighbors will sneak in a zucchini.
Same here. Even the urban sophisticate must be on the alert for surreptitious vegetable. The eggplant under cover of lasagna layers. Zucchini, shredded and sweetened, leaving telltale green flecks in the so-called banana bread.
Such modesty is undue. The vegetable, no matter how embarrassingly ample, need not be repressed under a smooth layer of bechamel, shoved to the margins of the plate or coaxed into some meat-substitute masquerade. We prefer an honest approach. Served in plain sight, to consenting adults, without apology.
There’s no reason eggplant, grilled smoky and glowing with garlic, can’t command a meal in itself. Unless, of course, you’ve already indulged in the same for breakfast and lunch. All week.
Too much of a good thing is, it turns out, an attainable condition.
GRILLED EGGPLANT
Serves four
For the sauce:
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1/3 packed cup cilantro leaves and stems
1/2 cup unsalted peanut butter
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon hot chili oil
For the vegetables:
4 to 6 long Asian eggplants (standard eggplants, though thicker skinned and not as sweet, work too)
1/2 cup sesame oil
1. Make the sauce: Measure all ingredients into the food processor. Swirl smooth.
2. Prepare the eggplant: Halve the eggplants lengthwise. Score the flesh lightly with crisscross hatch marks. Brush the cut sides liberally with sesame oil. Lay them, cut sides down, on a baking sheet.
3. Grill: Prepare a medium-hot grill. Grill eggplants, cut sides down, until golden and striped with score marks and the thickest portion of the skin side is tender to the touch, about 5 minutes.
4. Serve: Cut the eggplant halves on the diagonal and arrange, scored sides up, on a plate. Spoon on the sauce. Enjoy hot or warm, accompanied by a wedge of noodle pillow (recipe follows).
CRISPY NOODLE PILLOW: Cook 1/2 pound wide lo-mein noodles al dente. Drain, rinse with cold water, drain again. Toss with 2 tablespoons finely chopped chives (Chinese or standard), 2 tablespoons thinly sliced scallions, 2 teaspoons sesame oil, 1/2 teaspoon coarse salt and a little pepper. Heat 3 tablespoons corn oil in a medium nonstick skillet over medium heat. Coil the noodles into the skillet and press even with a spatula. Cook until golden on one side, about 7 minutes. Flip and cook until golden on the other side, about 8 minutes more. Slide onto a baking sheet lined with paper towels. Cut into wedges, which are handy for catching stray peanut sauce.
–Both recipes shamelessly streamlined from “China Moon Cookbook” by Barbara Tropp
